The kind still with the potato skin on 'em, fried crisp but not too much, so the soft velvety white on the inside is still supple to the touch, still steaming. Oh, sweet starch. A touch of salt, uh-huh. Malt vinegar sprinkled over the pile, just enough spicy ketchup to provide a balanced, salty-sweet tension. It's a miracle what potatoes, oil and accoutrements can accomplish when they cooperate. You can order a basket of fries, or you can get them as part of the fish-and-chips plate (which is how we usually do it). Either way, it's a victory. Either way, you get more fries than you deserve.